Even if one chooses not to figure Jacques Tati’s Trafic as a road film, the persistent focus on cars is enough to have it count on modernity’s affinity for new gadgets, whether or not they’re actually needed for anything.

Once those new things – read cars – are acquired, though, what do people do with them? The same thing that each did with older models. Sit in traffic and wait. Tati, more than acutely aware of the problems then current traffic caused in Paris and other city’s built for horses to function as a main mode of transportation, saw fit to include a rather lengthily montage of men fiddling with their noses as each waits in traffic. The scene is probably seen as infantile by most academics – those folks wouldn’t be incorrect. At that same time, though, it’s unquestionably amusing and something that we’ve all done. You know it, come on already.

More adroit in a critical sense, is Tati’s portrayal of Maria, a PR representative for the car company that Hulot works for. Over the course of the entire film, whether she’s driving, waiting to use the phone or simply leaving that abysmal car show, Maria announces her purpose and her station in life. Although, no one cares, the sense of self-aggrandizement on her part is palpable. A few writers have figured that Hulot and this character don’t really get along too well until the final scenes of the film. That would count as Tati lampooning business folks. But much in the same way that Hulot in past films was a passive observer to life, he’s a passive observer to the business dealings of his company. He just designs cars – or tries to.

And after the envoy misses the car show – although Hulot’s camper is a success outside in the parking lot – he’s fired and winds up walking the city with Maria. They are friends, indeed. But the apparent age difference is a bit odd. That difference then points to the fact that Trafic seems most distant from the time that it was made out of all Tati’s films. Even the attempt to insert a bit of psyched out jazz music towards the end of t he film seems odd. It was ’71, not ’68 after all.

While the film shouldn’t be looked upon as a lone sour note in Tati’s filmography, it does basically count as his swan song. That alone is sad without figuring the effort as a bummer – it’s worth a look, car enthusiast or not.